


Nightcall

by MRSharp



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Best Friends, DNF, Dreams, Friends to Lovers, George's POV, Heartache, M/M, Minecraft, Pining, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, YouTube, dreamnotfound, mutual feelings, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:21:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28604379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRSharp/pseuds/MRSharp
Summary: George embraces the warmth offered by his relationship with his best friends, Dream and Sapnap, going so far as to organise a surprise trip to meet them in America. Mounting confusion and mixed messages regarding his relationship with Dream explodes upon their meeting and finally seeing each other in real life. Tantalising and forbidden changes to their dynamic ensue as the relationship that was once entirely online and separated by thousands of miles becomes face to face and closer than ever.
Relationships: dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 56
Kudos: 150





	1. Shipwreck

“Ha! You just got owned George.” 

“Oh, go and suck a dick Sapnap,” George retorts, emphasising the syllables of his friend’s name to convey feigned annoyance. 

“George!” Dream wheezes, his laughter drowning out whatever clever response Sapnap may have been plotting in return. 

In the privacy offered by the voice-only Discord chat, George grins to himself and leans back in his chair, stretching cramped forearms and rubbing tension out of his left shoulder. Rapid colours from the Minecraft PVP server flick and swirl across his monitors, splashing erratic light across his desk. In front of him, Sapnap’s avatar is crouching and waving his diamond axe victoriously. George sighs. 

“Okay, Sapnap. One more round?” 

“Yessir. Ready to lose again?” 

George snorts as the countdown timer ticks down, signalling their fight may commence. George draws his bow, showering a rapid fire of arrows upon Sapnap, who complains loudly at the damage sustained. In the background of the voice call, Dream’s voice offers encouragement to both players, stoically remaining a neutral observer of the PVP unfolding. 

“Yes!” George exclaims gleefully, as the rally unleashed against his opponent results in victory. Sapnap’s groans reverberate loudly from George’s headset, prompting laughter that was equal parts happy and cocky. 

“Fine,” Sapnap spits out, jokingly. “Take the dub, George. Good job, I guess.” 

“Aww, Sappy. You’re such a good sport.” Dream teases, to which Sapnap responds by smacking his avatar with a dirt block. A fist-fight ensues between the pair as George watches, still laughing. 

“Yeeeah! Take that Dream,” Sapnap coos as text reading Dream was slain by Sapnap appears in the bottom left corner of the screen.

“Oh yeah, you’re so good Sapnap. Do you feel better, now that you won a fist fight?” drawls George, rolling his eyes and running his hand through his hair, adjusting the positioning of his headset over his ears. 

“Whatever. I’m going to bed to relive my victory in my dreams where you losers can’t make fun of me.” Sapnap announces, quickly logging off and exiting the call. 

A yawn escapes George as he grabs his phone and notes the lateness of the hour. Still in the call with just Dream now, he contemplates sleep. He looks over his shoulder at his nearby bed, oozing comfort and warmth and a break from sitting in the same chair as the past 4 hours. 

“Wanna build something with me in this field?” Dream interrupts George’s sleepy thoughts. 

“It’s late, Dream. I should go to bed.” George responds, but the weariness is already leaving his body as he speaks. He sighs and grins. “Sure. What do you want to build?” 

-

George wakes with a start. The first thing he notices is the pain in his right shoulder and neck, followed by cramped pain in the rest of his body from sleeping in such an unsustainable position in a chair that was not so ergonomic as a bed. 

“Wha-“ He rubs his eyes groggily and slowly shifts his head to stretch his neck and work out the knots of tenderness. He couldn’t remember falling asleep. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been doing before he apparently fell asleep. Rising from the chair to crack his back and stretch, he realised his earphones were still securely on his head, and that he was still logged onto the Minecraft server from last night’s – well, technically, this morning’s – PVP with Sapnap. 

Minecraft. Sapnap and Dream. The voice call. Building something? Thoughts wafted in and out of George’s mind as it slowly regained consciousness and he checked his phone. 

“3pm?! Fuck,” 

Any echo of tiredness flees George’s body as he sits back in his chair and returns to Discord, where a call between Dream and Sapnap was also awaiting his arrival. He clicked to enter it, groaning at the stiffness of his uncomfortable muscles and sleep-deprived memories. 

“Good morning,” Sapnap said slyly once George had connected to the chat. 

“Oh shut up.” 

“Jeez, I guess someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Or should I say, this afternoon – isn’t like dinner time for you George? How late did you stay up with Dream?” Sapnap laughed. 

“That’s an exaggeration, Sapnap. It’s only 3pm here. No need to be vicious.” George paused, entering the Dream Team Minecraft server and running over to where the two were stood at the end of a jungle, collecting blocks. “How late did we stay up, Dream?” 

Only laughter came in response.

“Dream?” 

“We, uh, we-“ Dream began, breaking off to laugh again. “Well, you fell asleep around 5am your time. But you didn’t leave the call.” He giggled.

George groaned at the realisation. He put his face in his palms and scrunched his eyes shut. “So, how long did it take you to realise I was asleep then? Why didn’t you just hang up?” 

“Well, you went quiet for a while and I thought you might have just been thinking. We were making that shipwreck in the field, remember? We were working on the masts when you went AFK.” Memories of constructing a land-bound shipwreck in the field came back to George and he grinned. It had looked pretty cool. 

“But then I heard you mumbling, and I thought maybe you were just really far away from your mic. And then I realised you were sleep-talking, a little bit. And you also snored.” Dream giggles and George hears a sound through the headset that he realises is Dream smashing his desk, in hysterics. Rolling his eyes, George grins and accepts the hilarity of the situation. 

“Aww, George snores!” Sapnap cries happily into the call. “I hope I get to hear you do that in real life George. Maybe even from the same bed as you,” Sapnap laughs heartily and George hits his avatar with a jungle vine. 

“You’re an idiot. That’s never going to happen.” George says with confidence, and then bounds across the biome until he reaches the edge of a field, where the mostly-finished shipwreck looms in front. Dream and Sapnap catch up with him and the three set to work finalising the construction. 

“You really think that will never happen, George?” Sapnap asks, jokingly, but with some genuine interest. 

“Well, depends. Are you asking about us sleeping in the same bed, or just whether you’ll ever hear me snore in real life? Cos the latter will probably happen one day, I guess.” 

“Aww. You don’t want to share a bed with me?” Sapnap says, filling his voice with a softness and pretend sadness in attempt to cause pangs in George’s heart. It doesn’t work. 

“Don’t be weird, Sapnap. Go and finish the left side of the shipwreck.” 

“What about with me?” Dream’s voice chimes in. 

“Huh?”

“What about with me? Would you share a bed with me, George?” Dream’s voice is hard to read. George questions whether he is being serious or only joking? Something tells him there is a hint of realness to the question, and a small flutter moves through George’s stomach. 

What? 

“Uh, probably not Dream. You’re like 6’3, there wouldn’t be any room for me anyway.” George responds, keeping his voice even despite his heart-rate becoming stupidly erratic. 

George shakes his head. Why do I feel like this? 

“Yeah, but you’re pretty small. You could just curl up at the foot of the bed.” Dream laughs. 

“Hey!” Sapnap interrupts. “You’re making plans to share a bed without me? What the hell, George?” The semi-legitimate hurt in his voice is enough to make George collapse into a fit of laughter, echoed in Dream’s wheezing through the headset. Eventually Sapnap lets go of the façade and joins in their hysterics; three different young men clutching at their stomachs and spluttering in unity despite their widely separated locations in the world. It felt encapsulating. It felt familiar. It brought a warmth to George unmatched by that of his cosy heater providing comfort in the bleak English weather. 

It was a trivial moment, but it felt huge to George as he basked in the warmth it offered. He wanted to remember this feeling and this laughter and this unity forever. 

“Hey,” Sapnap manages to choke out. “If we did share a bed-“

“Which we won’t.” George drops in with determination. 

“Who would be the big spoon?” Sapnap finishes his question, still giggling. George huffs jokingly and doesn’t entertain the notion longer than needed to answer.

“Well, obviously me, since I’m the biggest out of the three of us.” His response is met by a shrill wheeze from Dream, and more sounds of his desk being hit. 

“Nah. I reckon the order would be, George, then you; Dream, and then me. I can be the big spoon.” Sapnap’s delivery was touched by cute quantities of certainty and determination that one day this would take place. George tried brushing away the idea as a joke, and Sapnap being an idiot, but the thought of them all being together; physically with one another, and able to touch each other, was warming once more. 

“Are you sure that’s the best order? I think I’d squash George,” Dream offers, the last traces of laughter trailing off as he spoke. 

About to quickly leave the call to collect some breakfast – dinner? What was one supposed to call a meal eaten at 4 in the afternoon? – Dream’s words suddenly hit George with a clear image of him pinned under Dream. Feeling their laughter against each other. Warm bodies. Tan and ghostly skin alike. Tangled hair and big, strong hands. Any memory of Sapnap being present in that moment left him as George’s mind consumed only the image of Dream, tall and strong and comfortable and safe and…his? His. 

What?

George startled out of his thoughts, a long breath escaping him and bringing him back to reality. What was he thinking about? How had it morphed so quickly from warm, blooming friendship to something more, something…forbidden? 

“George?” Dream’s voice blasts into George’s mind suddenly, adding to his confused thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You all good there? You went quiet for a little while.”

“Oh…sorry. I’m gonna go make some food I think. I’ll be right back.” George slips off his headset to a chorus of okays and byes and can you make me some? from his friends. He slides back in his chair and searches for clarity, eyes scanning his bedroom before settling on his monitors where Dream and Sapnap’s avatars continued work on the shipwreck structure. He could hear their voices faintly from where his earphones rested on the desk. 

I just thought of my best friend…as more than a best friend. 

The confession streaks through George’s mind, white words across the inside of his skull, startling both in nature and the fact that he felt comforted after the realisation. He feels more relieved after blaming the strange vision on his sleep deprivation, terrible sleeping position and the fact that they were joking around about spooning just prior. Dream and Sapnap were his best friends; the warmth from earlier proved that. Soothed, George set about getting some food and moving on after collecting his thoughts. 

Nothing more, nothing else. 

Just best friends.


	2. Flutter

Steam rises from the baked potatoes on George’s plate, enshrouding him with scents of delicious warmth and provoking an aggressive grumbling in his stomach. Despite their nuclear heat, he wolfs half of one down immediately to satiate his hunger. Cross-legged on his bed, stomach growing fuller by the minute, George sighs contentedly. He right hand absent-mindedly strokes his cat’s chin, scratching soft fur and eliciting purrs mimicking George’s own sense of happiness. 

The strange turn of his thoughts from yesterday’s voice call with the boys are in the furthest corner of his mind at this moment. 

George’s phone chimes, signalling a message from Dream. He taps the notification curiously and opens to a screen capture from Dream’s monitor showing Sapnap’s avatar laying slain across grass blocks, with a caption reading ‘just killed this idiot cos he ruined our shipwreck. want 2 help smack him some more?’ 

Shovelling in the last of his potatoes, George moves over to his desk and settles in his cushioned chair, disturbing the cat in the process. He provides an apologetic pat and logs into the Minecraft server, simultaneously entering another voice call with his friends. He reopens the message from Dream and laughs softly to himself. Idiots. 

“Geeeorge!” Sapnap practically screams into George’s headset the moment the call goes through. 

“Oh my God, Sapnap, what? You just caused me premature hearing loss,” George snaps, fondly. 

“Don’t be silly, George. If anything, your hearing loss is simply due to your exceptionally old age.” Dream comments. George groans and rolls his eyes. ‘Every time’, he thinks to himself. He was constantly getting set up and baited into jokes about his being the oldest of the trio, despite the fact that it was only a matter of years between them all. 

“Anyways,” Sapnap says, drawing attention back to himself. “Dream killed me! I didn’t even do anything wrong.” He whines, solidifying to George that he had, in fact, done something wrong.  
Curious, George’s avatar bounds over to where the shipwreck sat in the field, looking perfectly intact and unchanged. He clicks on a door to walk through it and notices a newly erected sign, standing proudly next to a bed made from blue wool. 

The sign reads: ‘here lies the communal bed for spooning sessions and for George to snore while Dream watches ;)’ 

Sapnap sniggers as George sighs audibly and breaks the signpost. “You’re so dumb, sometimes.” 

“I didn’t even watch him snore, Sapnap, it was a voice-only call.” Dream adds defensively. 

“Yeah, well, maybe you want to watch him snore, Dream.” Sapnap giggles, running back into the field and towering up on a stack of remaining blue wool. 

“What? You’re such an idiot.” He fires back, hotly. George tenses, hearing an unexpected undertone in Dream’s voice. He sounded…shifty. Like he wanted to change topic. That stupid flutter runs through George’s stomach once more and, trying to suppress his confused feelings, he accidentally groans out loud, not escaping Sapnap’s notice. 

“Oh-ho, getting a little excited at the idea of that are we Georgie?” His voice is filled with insinuation and George can practically hear the fat smirk in his voice. He towers up adjacent to him and knocks Sapnap’s avatar to the ground below. 

‘Sapnap fell from a high place,’ flashes into the chat. 

“Now I see why Dream wanted my help in smacking some sense into you,” George mutters, ignoring Sapnap’s comment and his current hysterical laughter and further ignoring the flutters that pulse through him sporadically. 

What is happening to me? He thinks. 

“I bet you wouldn’t mind if Dream smacked some sense into you, George. If you know what I mean,” Sapnap retorts cackling, as though his second sentence even needed verbalising. The innuendo was all too apparent, and elicited shouts of ‘Oh my god’s and ‘No, Sapnap, stop.’ and ‘what the hell is wrong with you?!’ from George and Dream alike. 

“You two need to learn to take a joke. I’m going to have a shower. In the meantime, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Sapnap exits the voice call, finishing his spectacular display of implications with a series of kissing noises way too close to his microphone. 

“Ugh,” George groans, as soon as it’s quiet. “He really can be too much at times.” 

“Yeah,” Dream responds, with a snort. 

It’s quiet for a time. The pair begin construction of an aeroplane a few hundred blocks away from their shipwreck. George likes that they can work in contemplative silence together, like this, without it feeling awkward. He supposes the length of time that their friendship has spanned for enables such a thing to occur, but suspects it’s more due to the depth and closeness of their relationship. A small smile takes form on George’s face as he once again feels warmed by his fondness for his best friend. It feels comparable to the smouldering heat within his baked dinner from earlier. 

That thought makes him laugh out loud, the first sound within the voice call for at least twenty minutes. Dream sounds startled. 

“What was that? Are you good?” He questions with incredulity. 

“Ah, nothing,” George giggles. “I was thinking about hot potatoes,” he laughs again at how ridiculous the admission seemed, and is joined by Dream’s familiar wheeze. 

“It doesn’t bother you when Sapnap says shit like that, does it?” Dream asks with a sudden seriousness. 

“Those stupid jokes? Of course not. Why, does it bother you?” George answers slightly too quickly, feeling his heart skip a beat and the flutter return in his abdomen. He frowns. He was telling the truth, so why did his body appear to disagree? Sapnap’s comments were unfounded implications at best, and the silly innuendos of a teenaged boy at worst. 

“No no,” Dream assures. “I just, I was worried stuff like that might make you uncomfortable or something, and I wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.” The inflections of Dream’s response were filled with genuine care and a softness George found endearing. His chest blossomed with unexpected warmth. 

“How sweet of you, Dream,” George says with a light laugh. “But no concern on my end.” 

Contented silence returns to the call. 

-

“Oh, you little-“ Dream groans in frustration as a nearby creeper explodes, taking half his health. George laughs. “Oh yeah, you’re laughing now George, but you’re not gonna like it when I whack you with this iron sword, are you?” Dream threatens, avatar inching closer to George and a mischievous tone in his voice. 

“Dream, no.” George pleads, with sincerity. “I’m sorry I laughed at your near-death experience.” He tries to sound earnest, but another laugh escapes before he can suppress it and Dream leaps into action, unleashing critical hits and a series of combos that George has no hope of buffering with his inventory containing only a leather helmet, an uncooked salmon and sixteen dirt.

“Dream!” He exclaims, voice going up at least two octaves as his screen turns red before his eyes. ‘You died!’ is sprawled before him in insultingly large text. Dream’s laugh makes George smirk, but he tries to remain annoyed. 

“Why don’t you kiss my ass, Dream?”

“Woahhh,” Sapnap barks out a laugh, having returned at precisely the wrong timing. “I thought I told you guys to avoid doing anything I wouldn’t do, and yet here you are talking dirty on the call without me!” 

“Sapnap!”

“Oh my God-“ 

“I’m just kidding you guys, jeez,” Sapnap giggles and spam clicks his spacebar to retreat before they can murder him in cold blood like earlier. 

Feeling more confidence than normal, George decides to embrace the teasing nature of the evening, rather than trying to flee from it – clearly Sapnap wasn’t going to shut up. 

“Well, Sapnap, I don’t know if I would call it talking dirty. I mean, Dream can kiss my ass any time he likes, so I don’t know if that makes it a particularly special occurrence.” He giggles nervously, heart and stomach fluttering in unison, as his headset peaks with loud splutters from Dream and Sapnap alike. 

“George!” 

“It’s true,” he drawls. 

“Do you have to make it so vulgar, George? Can’t I kiss somewhere else instead?” Dream starts, quickly interrupted by voracious laughter and suggestions from Sapnap. “I meant his forehead you idiot. What the hell is wrong with you?” He breaks off into laughter that is tinged with nervousness, it seems to George’s ears. 

Nervousness? 

He wants to kiss my forehead? 

Flutters erupt throughout George and he tries but fails to bat them away. ‘I’m being stupid,’ he thinks to himself, attempting to regain control over his emotions. It was simple, friendly, joking between him and his mates. Nothing wrong with that. 

Then why were the flutters remaining? Why were there flutters at all? 

Why did the fond warmth of friendship feel tinted with something deeper, more tempting? 

George shakes his head as though his thoughts were cobwebs in real life. He grins and focuses his attention back to the conversation at hand. He is struck by an idea and giggles to himself. 

“George, why is your face-cam on?” Sapnap asks.

“Dream said he wanted to kiss my forehead.” George explains, laughing. “So, here it is.” He leans close to the camera at an unflattering angle, so that his forehead almost entirely takes up the view.

“That looks really stunning George, you should stream like that from now on.” Sapnap giggles. 

Kissy noises from Dream drown out his laughter. “There you go George, you got a big fat smooch. Can you put your forehead away now?” He wheezes. 

“Maybe you should get your ass out for us now, instead, George, since you seem so keen on Dream seeing it,” Sapnap drops in, erupting with cackles. A warm blush creeps across George’s face. 

“I never said that I wanted to see his ass, Sapnap. In fact, I never said anything about his ass!” Dream defends.

“So you don’t want to see it?”

“Yeah, are you saying you don’t think he has a nice butt, Dream?” 

“What? Oh my god, you guys are baiting me so hard right now.” Dream groans, sounding cornered and defeated. 

“How are you gonna get out of this nice big hole you’ve dug for yourself here, Dream?” George asks, laughing in increasingly high-pitches. 

“Nothing I say will be right, will it? I might as well resign to the fact.” Dream levels his voice and continues, “George, I’m sure your ass is perfectly adequate, I don’t have any intention to see it anytime soon and can we please move on to a different topic now?” Dream’s desperation is understandable, but hilarious to George and Sapnap, who refuse to stop laughing for at least five minutes, during which time Dream grows increasingly whiny and then eventually stops speaking entirely. 

“Aw, come on Dreamy, don’t give us the silent treatment!” Sapnap urges. 

‘Dream has left the server’ enters the in-game chat, but he remains on the call. George grins, wiping tears of laughter from streaming down his face, and pulls out his phone. A quick Google search results in an image acceptable for his purpose, and he sends a Snap to Dream, tongue pressed in cheek while awaiting his response. George hears the message notification on Dream’s phone through his headset. The delivered symbol changes to show the message has been read. 

A high-pitched wheeze emits into the chat, concerning Sapnap. “What the hell?” 

“George just sent me a booty pic!” Dream cries gleefully, laughing alongside George. 

“What!” Sapnap yells. “It wasn’t of his own, surely.”

“I mean, it could have been,” George offers, teasing. 

“And you didn’t want to share it with me?” Sapnap asks in an incredulous tone, prompting even more laughter from the pair. 

“No, this is for my eyes only, Sappitus.” Dream says confidently, laugh-sighing. 

“This is so not fair. I’m leaving.” Sapnap exits out of the call and the server once more, but not before sending a text into their iMessage group chat that simply reads, ‘fuck u guys ☹’. 

Dream and George continue laughing long after Sapnap has left. 

“Just to clarify, that photo isn’t actually of you, right?” Dream asks tentatively, laughing lightly. 

“Obvioiusly not, Dream, does the rest of me look that tan?” incredulity floods George’s response. 

“From what I’ve seen of you, no, but maybe your lower half is rocking some sun-kissed action. I wouldn’t know – I’ve never seen it.” Dream teases, though his tone is hard to read.

“Oh my God, Dream, we don’t even get enough sunlight here for that. And you don’t have to see anything to know – I’m practically translucent!” George defends hotly, ignoring the near-imperceptible nuances in Dream’s voice and responses. 

“Well, maybe I want to see,” Dream mutters, and for a moment George thinks he’s imagining things. 

“What? What did you say?” he asks quickly; too quickly.

“Nothing, George. I’m going to bed. You probably should too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Dream exits the chat, leaving George alone, swamped by cyclonic thoughts and a racing heart. 

What did he say? 

Dream hadn’t sound angry or upset when he left and said goodnight. But he also hadn’t acknowledged what he’d said prior. George flounders for answers whilst simultaneously trying not to read into anything. He pauses. 

Why is he doing this? Why is he trying to unpack his light joking with his best friend? 

An answer to his rhetorical thoughts bubbles to the surface of his mind, but he doesn’t want to hear that answer, or face that answer. It could change everything. And he doesn’t know if he wants that change. 

‘Because,’ he allows the thought to surface, as it inevitably would, ‘I can tell there’s a real meaning behind them. I know there is for me…and I think maybe, there is for him too.’ George shivers. The thought alone is forbidden. Yet it is also tantalising, and sweet, and warm. 

He stands abruptly, earphones ripping from their socket. 

“I can’t think like this!” he exclaims, in attempt to convince himself. He gets into bed, shoves a pillow over his head, and tries – unsuccessfully – to have a peaceful sleep free of dangerous thoughts and conflicting emotions regarding his best friend.


	3. Void

“George?”

George blinks rapidly and scrambles to his feet, bewildered. It’s dark, and he squints with a hand over his eyebrows, trying to visualise shadowed shapes and hidden sounds in this unfamiliar space. 

“George!” 

A voice is croaking, a dry rasp in the void ahead, pattered with desperation. Some small part of George knows that he is dreaming, but the urgency of the calling sinks his stomach as he recognises the voice and hastens to find its owner. He knows this voice as well as his own.

“Dream?” he whispers into the darkness, crouching with arms outstretched, fumbling through the landscape. “Dream, where are you?” George feels his pulse quickening and swallows nervously. He feels unsafe here. 

“George,” Dream’s voice cries once more, sounding further away than before. The sound echoes unpleasantly around the space and George spins rapidly to catch its origin but falls to his knees, disoriented; confused. He touches cold, smooth ground beneath his fingertips and crawls forward on hands and knees until he reaches an area illuminated by pale grey light. 

Dawn. 

Climbing to his feet, brushing grit off his pants, George appraises the land around him. 

A Minecraft cave. 

Unsurprising, George thinks, considering almost all of his waking hours are spent in the pixelated world. Before him, beyond the cave entrance, sunrise is emerging over the horizon, painting the landscape hues of orange and casting long shadows. It is captivating; welcoming. A sound clamours from deep in the belly of the cave, over George’s shoulder; and he shivers, reluctant to turn his back on the beautiful scenery ahead. He thinks of Dream’s disembodied voice scared and alone in the depths below, and his heart aches. 

He knows what he must do. 

-

Darkness. Silence. 

George creeps forward, clutching a shield and sword with white knuckles and trembling hands. 

He is swallowed by the emptiness of the cave, the void dispersing in all directions around him. The comforting light of morning has been left behind long ago and is a distant memory in the blackness of this space. 

“Dream?” George whispers, concerned by the uneasy silence. He faithfully follows the path the cave laid out before him, leading him to-

To what? 

To his best friend? To an awakening? 

The subconscious journey mapped by George’s sleeping mind felt far too real to be brushed off as simple vivid imaginings as the night wore on. It felt like a warning. An omen.

“Dream?” George hisses, this time with urgency. Scared and alone and confused, he wanted to find Dream and get the hell out of this place. He wanted to go back and watch the end of the sunrise, with Dream, safe and warm and undoubtedly by his side. He wanted secret glances and shared laughter and to see the way Dream’s tousled hair would shimmer in the pinkish light. 

George drops his sword, distracted by his thoughts, jumping in fright, and cursing into the darkness. The sound echoed for an unnerving length of time, until George realises the noise he hears is no longer an echo but an approaching rumbling that seems unfriendly. 

He runs. 

Blind, stumbling on sudden drops and unexpected raises in the ground, he runs. 

But the sound is too fast, catching him up and bringing with it a landslide; ground toppling below George’s feet and sending him plummeting further into darkness. 

-

George coughs. 

His whole body aches. 

Sprawled on a pile of gravel, he slowly collects his limbs into a crouched position and feels for his shield and sword. A single ray of early morning light streams into this new cavernous space from a hole in the ceiling far above. 

“George?” Dream’s voice asks into the dimness, and his footsteps approach. 

Still bewildered from his fall and growing accustomed to the light, George looks around rapidly, eyes and hands moving erratically, frantically searching for-

“Dream!” He cries, fingertips connecting with and clutching onto the soft fabric of a hoodie. A warm hand appears on George’s elbow, aiding him to his feet and leading him into the ray of light. Finally able to see himself, George realises he is grazed, and bleeding. His right shoulder throbs from taking the brunt of his weight from the fall. His sword hangs limply, dangling from his hand. 

Still shadowed by darkness, George can barely make out Dream’s figure. Tall, and lean, and weaponless. They are both trembling. 

“I searched for you,” George offers earnestly, to break the silence. “I don’t know how long for, but I just kept walking. I wanted to show you the sunrise.” He grins, teeth brilliantly white in the sepia light, but it falters at Dream’s response. 

“You were so far away,” Dream’s voice is small. “You’re so far away, George.” 

“What do you mean? I’m right here, Dream.” George feels pangs of hurt, and not from his physical wounds. His skin tingles, electrified. 

“You kept getting close to me, but it was never close enough. I lost you. How could I lose you George?” Dream’s voice rises with concern, sounding panicked. He puts his face in his hands. 

“Dream,” George starts, stepping forward to place a comforting hand on Dream’s shoulder. His fingers tremble. “I’m right here. I’m always here. You know that.” He allows a small smile to cross his face and looks up at his friend with baleful eyes. Dream’s hands drop back to his sides, but George cannot make out his face; and he hurts again. 

“I need you, George.” Dream whispers the confession, as though scared to voice the truth any louder. He steps forward, shadows disappearing to reveal his features, but before George can comprehend what was just said, or glance up, the ground below him gives way and he falls; plummeting, ripped away from the intimacy and safety offered by standing in the ray of light with Dream.

He gasps.

His stomach drops. 

And he wakes up, clutching bedsheets with an iron grip and sweating all over. 

-

George leaps out of bed as though burned. The digital clockface at his desk reads ‘5.59am’. 

He shivers, running his hands along his arms in an effort to stop the chills. His body is freezing, but his mind and soul are on fire, alight with feelings brought to the surface and thoughts that won’t leave him alone. What was his mind trying to tell him? 

George fumbles for his phone and opens his most recent text chain with Dream. He sends a message that simply reads, ‘are u awake?’, searching for crumbs of normalcy and comfort. His heart continues to leap from his chest. He is too energised, electrified, reeling. Considering the real meanings behind whatever it was he just woke up from; and how to act accordingly. Awaiting Dream’s response, George loads his computer and sits cross-legged in his chair, hugging himself together and slowing his breath. 

He logs into Minecraft and bounds over to the familiar field of constructions to calm himself. Seeing the pixelated world in real life, before his eyes, where he knows for certain he is awake, is relieving. No confusion or fear exists in this space. The ground cannot swallow him whole here. 

Right as his mind finally starts to slow, and tiredness begins to creep in, replacing the energy purely elicited by his shocking dream, George’s eyes lock onto one of the shapes in the field, and he freezes, undone by a single thought. 

The aeroplane. 

Stupid, really. He should drop the idea entirely. Such spontaneity does not normally exist for George. But he couldn’t shake the dream, nor the feeling that his interpretation of it was merely fuelling a dangerous fantasy. This one act would put to rest the pain caused by Dream’s longing words, “you’re so far away.” 

This is what he told himself as he purchased a single plane ticket to Miami, due for departure in ten days time. Was it fate? Discounted flights, his dream, the Minecraft aeroplane; his stupid, confusing feelings; all co-existing like this? Or was he simply going insane, and forcing connections where none existed? Basing his future on made-up dialogue in a made-up scenario that left very real feelings of hurt and longing in George’s heart, his stomach, his mind? 

George lets out a shaky breath. 

The ticket is confirmed. His nerves ease immediately, though his heart continues to race. His phone chimes. Dream has replied, “what are u doing up so early?”, followed by a five second recording of George snoring on the Discord call. He rolls his eyes. 

‘I’m going to see you’, George thinks, heart aching and chest warming. He longs to tell Dream immediately, but knows it will remain a surprise. He wants their meeting to be unscripted, and genuine, and real. Out of his head, away from subconsciousness. 

‘I can see you,’ George murmurs, staring at his phone while his text conversation with Dream continues. ‘And when I do, I will know how I feel.’


	4. Hot Stuff

“You’re doing WHAT?” 

“Sapnap-“

George sighs in exasperation. This is exactly why he’d been debating telling him in the first place. 

“I’m just a bit shocked, George, that’s all. This happened very quickly,” he pauses, and George could sense the gears turning in Sapnap’s brain. “What’s the rush?” 

“I don’t know,” George lies. “I figured now was a good a time as any, and I want to spend time with my friends. You don’t want to see me?” He tosses in at the end jokingly, to alleviate any possible suspicions on Sapnap’s behalf. 

“Of course I want to see you George! Don’t be dumb. I just didn’t expect it so…suddenly. Have you told Dream?” 

George tenses. “Uh, I haven’t actually. I was thinking about keeping it a secret so it can be like, a surprise visit. What do you think?” This was only a half-truth, but George could hardly admit he wanted their first meeting to be as genuine as possible to gauge his feelings towards his best friend. George cringes at the thought. Yikes. 

“Dude, that is a brilliant idea! He’s gonna be so surprised!” Sapnap’s voice was full of an authenticity that brought a smile to George’s face. Crisis regarding his feelings aside, the trip was going to be amazing and fun; and he would finally get to hang out with his two closest friends in real life. 

“Okay, I’m glad you approve. But you have to keep it a secret, okay, Sapnap? No accidental hints or dropping it into the Discord chats.” 

“Sure.” 

“Sapnap.”

“I said sure! I’m not gonna bring it up with him, chill.” 

George rolls his eyes. “Thank you.” He pauses. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you,” he says. 

“Simp.” 

“Sapnap!” 

“I’m just kiddinggg, George. I’m looking forward to seeing you too.” Sapnap laughs. “Ease up! You’re going on a holiday in a week’s time – where’s the chillaxed vibes?”

“I know you did not just say ‘chillaxed’ to me,” George says with a groan. 

Sapnap was right though; he should be feeling relaxed and looking forward to going overseas. But as the days crept closer, a pit of butterflies grew within his stomach, and they would not stop fluttering. Ever since purchasing the plane ticket, George could barely focus on the present, mind whirring as he drifted around going through the motions while his eyes remained glazed over, imagining how the following few weeks could unfold. He was scared. He was exhilarated. He was-

“-hitting me into a ravine, George!” Sapnap shouts into his headset, jerking George back into reality once more. “Can you please pay attention?” 

George turns his focus to his monitors and forces his eyes to actually see what was in front of him. Sapnap was indeed lying slain at the bottom of a ravine in their Minecraft server. He respawns and bounds back over to where George’s avatar is shifting over the crevice’s edge, peering into the depths below. A creeper was wandering in circles near the edge of flowing lava, and George could see a few veins of coal and iron scattered nearby. 

A sound notifies the pair of someone joining their call. 

“Dream!” Sapnap cries gleefully as his avatar’s ridiculously bright green body appears over a hill. 

“Hey guys,” Dream says affectionately. George’s flutters intensify and he grimaces. ‘Stop being dumb,’ he tells himself, determined not to end up swallowed by his swirling, confused thoughts and feelings. Until he knew for sure, he was not going to be distracted, and he was sure as hell not going to accidentally fuck up his friendships with Sapnap, or more importantly, Dream, in the meantime. 

“Can we try and beat the game?” George suggests, feeling productive and itching for routine to ignore his thoughts.

“Great idea!” George hears Sapnap’s hands clap together through his headset and leans back in his own chair, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles. 

“Eww, George, I hate how that sounds.” Dream says.

“Hate what? This?” George grins mischievously and brings his hands close to his mic, cracking his thumbs with resonant clarity and feeling much more limber; and prompting Dream to emit a series of gagging sounds that transform into a wheeze. 

“Yeah, that. You’re so annoying. I bet I can get full iron before you,” Dream teases, punching George’s avatar and running to the nearest tree to collect supplies. 

George grins. The boys were back into their usual routine, and it felt good. 

-

The trio ran around the nether, ducking fiery blows from a pesky nearby ghast and attempting to locate a fortress. Decked out in full iron, except for George who was sporting a yellow-dyed leather helmet, they were doing well so far, and were having a lot of fun. The easiness of their conversations brought some relief to George, who, when he allowed his overworked brain to envelope him while trying to sleep, was terrified about their meeting up in real life. What if it was awkward? What if Dream wasn’t happy to see him? What if George’s feelings were truly real, and not the by-product of strange dreams and teasing conversations; and Dream didn’t reciprocate?

Worse – what if he did? 

George flinches. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. He didn’t really know what he wanted to happen, if he was completely honest with himself; and he didn’t want to come up with contingency plans for every possible bad or overwhelming experience that could happen. 

Especially not that last one. 

“Hey Dream,” Sapnap says with a teasing tone, withdrawing a very relieved George back out of his head and into the task at hand again. “You know what your mom is?” 

There was a pause, and then ‘Hot Stuff’ appeared in the in-game chat, signifying Sapnap had collected some lava. George snorts, rolling his eyes, while Sapnap disappears into a fit of laughter. 

“What? You’re so dumb,” Dream says, ignoring them, but George can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes him smile too. “C’mon guys, the fortress is gonna be this way, I know it.” His avatar bounds off to the left, forming and following a tunnel through the netherack until they emerge over an expansive lake of lava, shifting to avoid falling to perilous – and inconvenient – deaths. 

Sure enough, a fortress is visible on the opposite side. 

“How do you do that Dream? You just always magically know where everything is in this game.” George says with admiration, but also genuine curiosity. One day, he’d have to get Dream to teach him all his knowledge. 

Maybe when you go to visit them, George’s brain taunts; flashing images of the trio playing together in real life, draped across desk chairs with snacks sprawled across the room. Raucous laughter when Dream dies to a wither skeleton – even more laughter at Dream’s wheeze when Sapnap gets killed by a baby zombie two minutes into the next spawn. Dream running his hands over his face and then through his hair, shifting his head from side to side to loosen the knots in his neck from playing for too long in the same position. Fast fingers across his keyboard, commands known off-by-heart from so many years of expertly beating the game. Shared glances, ambiguous smirks. Locked eyes in the darkness of the room, the only light source their monitors, emitting bluish glows. Late nights turning to early mornings, all spent side by side. 

Warmth. 

George freezes in real life as a pang of longing moves through him, unsatiable. He drops his face into his hands and blows out a long, shaky breath. 

Get it together, George. 

He races to catch up with his friends entering the fortress, having towered across the abyss. 

“Look who finally showed up to help!” Sapnap cries sarcastically, taking down a stray blaze with his axe. 

“Sorry, sorry, I got distracted by my cat,” George offers, looking across his bedroom to where she lay sleeping in a cardboard box. He shook his head – you could buy a cat as many cosy beds as you liked, but an empty box was the height of comfort for them. He smiles and returns to the game. 

“It’s okay, George. I get distracted by pussy, too.” Sapnap giggles. 

“Sapnap!”

“What??” Dream laughs, amidst killing blazes. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

With Sapnap incapacitated by laughter, George sets about helping Dream kill the blazes. One falls, and George collects the rod it dropped, sending the achievement into the chat: ‘Into Fire’.   
Eventually, Sapnap recovers from laughing at his own joke – or maybe he found his friends’ reactions funnier – and between them, 16 blaze rods are gained. Victorious, they make their way back to the portal. 

George has a thought, and smirks to himself. “Hey Dream?”

“Yeah?”

“You know what you are?” 

“What’s that?” 

George scoops up some lava, ‘Hot Stuff’ entering the chat for a second time, and giggles. 

“What the hell, George?” Sapnap laughs out, “You completely stole my joke from earlier!”

“That was about his mother, idiot. I said it about Dream.” George grins and emits a high-pitched laugh. 

“Thank you, George,” Dream says, lightly laughing, but taking the joke with sincerity. “But you don’t even know what I look like – what if I’m some fat old man living in my mother’s basement?” 

Sapnap erupts into laughter at the mere thought, and George joins in, but the comment bothers him. Not for the reasons outlined by Dream, because George knows that’s bullshit and he’s kidding, but because of the self-deprecation – did Dream really think that he wasn’t worthy of the compliment, even if it was an exaggerated joke? George attempts to brush the seed of concern away, to no avail.

What if he doesn’t want me to see him? 

His heart aches at the thought alone.

Dream was his best friend. George knew him better than he knew himself, probably. He didn’t have to know what he looked like to have that type of connection, that authenticity. 

Dream was already the most beautiful person in the world to him. 

“Well, George can figure that out for himself when he comes and sees you,” Sapnap drops into the conversation, off the back of Dream’s joke. George is sure he hears Sapnap curse under his breath.

Silence permeates the call. George freezes. 

The cat was out of the bag. Dream had to have heard the seriousness below Sapnap’s still-joking tone. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not gonna be for a long time, so maybe I’ll have the chance to lose some of this old-man weight before then,” Dream jokes, hopping into the nether portal. 

The tension dissipates immediately. He hadn’t even noticed. 

George lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in. With shaky hands, he opens a private message tab with Sapnap and types, ‘Nice one, idiot.’ 

He types back: ‘It just slipped out it was an accident!!’ 

George replies, ‘okay. Just, please watch what you say around him. I want it to be a surprise and that was a close call.’

Sapnap’s icon types for a few moments before disappearing. He responds ‘sure’, followed by, ‘not as close as you want to be with Dream tho, I’ll bet’. The text was followed by a winky face. 

George groans and shuts the chat. His attention returns to the game, the trio now searching for a stronghold. As George sprints to keep up, his eyes drift to the list of achievements displayed by the in-game chat on the bottom left of his monitor. The one signifying his collection of a blaze rod stands out. 

Into Fire. 

A flutter runs through his abdomen, escaping the nest of butterflies residing there. It brings with it a warmth that consumes his whole body, his mind returning to his fond imaginings from earlier, picturing late Floridian nights spent playing Minecraft and talking about everything and nothing, under the shadows created by the moon. 

Much more of this, and he would spontaneously combust, George thought. 

Into Fire. Is that what it meant? 

His upcoming trip was full of unfamiliarity, surrounded by question marks and lucid dreams and stupid teasing comments. He would be going into America, into the unknown, into his feelings. His stomach full of butterflies, his heart encased in warmth and his mind full of honey, tantalising and enticing, but also leaving him trapped in its viscosity. No idea about where the next few days, weeks, would lead him; or how his feelings would progress other than being swarmed by warmth. 

Into fire.


	5. Golden

Friendly golden light streams in the room, split into geometrical rays from the slats in the blinds. The light signals early morning, but not too early – a welcoming time of day that is cosy and easy-going, representing slow movements and sleepy grins and buttered toast. The light feels like birds chirping, like the sound of pool water splashing. It is encompassing, consuming. 

George’s heart swells. 

He rolls over, slips his feet over the edge of the bed, stretching his arms to the ceiling and shaking out his limbs, clothed in an oversized t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. He smiles to the light, and the light gleams back.

He feels perfectly whole. 

He looks back over his shoulder, toward the ruffled bed sheets, where Dream lays still sleeping, his blonde hair splashed across the pillows and an arm covering his face. 

George inhales sharply, drawing himself back to the present, where he is standing in the shower, encased by swirling steam and pattering water. Dream is not asleep next to him, in the same bed. He is not in Florida. 

Yet.

George’s heart pangs as he scrubs his face, attempting to rid the warm image from his mind. It felt golden. It looked perfect-

Except that, even in his mind, George couldn’t see Dream’s face.

Any attempt to imagine it; futile. Always covered by darkness, or a jacket hood, or an arm in his sleep – it remained a mystery. George’s heart throbs again, longingly. He permits a small, sad frown to cross his face, closing his eyes to return to the image one final time, capturing every vivid, made-up detail to store in his mind for later. For his dreams. 

For something to come back to if things turn out different to how they were in that daydream, he thinks fleetingly, before turning the water off abruptly and ceasing his pandering thoughts. 

-

The steam from his shower is replaced by steam from a bowl of ramen as he sits cross-legged at his desk, one hand on his keyboard, roaming through Minecraft. He stands appraising the shipwreck, avatar unmoving for an endless moment as he thinks of what it symbolises.

Or, he corrects, what it could symbolise – nothing meant anything yet. George was simply tearing himself apart in a mental hurricane, flinging previously untouched thoughts and desires to the forefront of his mind, flipping what was forbidden on its head, and causing himself emotional whiplash. He kept trying to get out his head, away from his heart, as the countdown until his trip continued; and he was succeeding – a process mostly enabled by long hours spent alternating servers on calls with Dream and Sapnap that spanned the lengths of the days and most of the nights. But, when he was alone, unable to busy himself anymore – the thoughts crept in to replace the sudden silence. 

A chime sounds – Sapnap was calling him. 

George answers solemnly. 

“Dude, you sound glum. What’s up?” Sapnap clues in immediately, able to hear the change in George’s tone compared to previous recent calls. 

“Ugh, I just…didn’t have a very good sleep, that’s all.” A complete lie. Sleeping allowed George’s mind to conjure up whatever it desired – and there was only one thing, one person, that it did. Sleeping allowed him to see Dream, metaphorically, and pretend his trip away would unfold like a fairy-tale. At this point, he was practically certain in his feelings for his friend – his unconscious mind had forced him into the overwhelming truth. But he still had to see, to wait; to know for sure. 

“Well, that’s not very good. You’re gonna be pretty jetlagged after your flight tomorrow, you might wanna rest up.” Sapnap says thoughtfully, before chewing sounds permeate the call. 

“What are you eating?” George asks, crinkling his nose at the sounds. 

“Doritos,” Sapnap responds with a resonant crunch. George laughs, and shovels in a mouthful of ramen himself. He chews, thinking, replaying Sapnap’s words. They definitely held truth – he needed a good sleep, or rather, he needed to feel good while awake in order to get a grip, and feel better. Especially before-

“Did you say tomorrow’s flight??” George asks suddenly, fork dropping into his bowl of noodles and eyes widening.

“Yup,” Sapanp crunches again. 

“Tomorrow?! I thought it was still days away! What the hell?” 

“Yeah, tomorrow, dummy. Today’s the 11th.” Sapnap giggles. “Did you like, forget?” 

“No!” George splutters, “I just, I guess time got away from me, I haven’t been paying attention to the days or the dates.” He runs a hand through his hair at the realisation. Time had moved deceptively fast while he remained in his slow-paced, light filled visions with his golden-haired boy.

Friend.

Golden haired friend. 

George shakes his head at himself. “The flight is at night, at least, so there’s not a real rush. And I’m pretty close to the airport, so.” He finishes his ramen contemplatively.

“Have you packed yet?” 

“No, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary I need to bring really, is there?” George looks around his room. Clothes, shoes, toiletries; the usual. His laptop. Chargers. A book for the flight. He rattles off the list off the top of his head to Sapnap, who approves. 

“No stress then,” George says, letting out a deep breath. He felt much more on top of things. “I’m so glad you reminded me – I mean I hadn’t forgotten, exactly, but I’d definitely let the days slide past. Imagine if I did forget,” he laughs as a notification sounds into the call.

“Forget what?” Dream asks. 

George coughs. Sapnap chews. 

“Guys?” Dream asks at the same time as George says “nothing” and Sapnap retorts with “to tell your mom how hot she is.”

Sapnap was the loudest.

Dream laughs, calling him an idiot. George raises his eyebrows, disbelieving at how easily Sapnap can play off probing questions and act normal. He needed to be able to be chill like that, instead of panicking any time something too close to the truth was uttered, or the secret compromised. 

The trio zip around George’s monitors, getting stacked with food and armour and weapons to take on a nether challenge they had planned for later in the week. Little did Dream know they were going to be doing so all in person, in the same room. George grins and continues to mine ahead of him, searching for diamonds. 

They were in a deep cave that so far had held up in providing them iron and coal and monsters to kill for experience points. But what they really wanted was diamond armour. 

“Guys! Come look here,” Sapnap cries, his avatar standing at an edge. Dream and George bound over.

“A mineshaft!” George is pleasantly surprised.

“Oooo, there should be a lot of stuff down there,” Dream says, jumping onto the rails below. A search of the chests spread throughout the maze-like structure results in 6 diamonds, 14 bread to add to their already huge collection; and Sapnap being stuck in a pile of spider’s web, much to his annoyance but to the amusement of George and Dream. Sapnap screams out curse words, attempting to escape and then break the webs, causing Dream to wheeze even harder and hit his desk in the background of the call. George takes a moment to wipe a tear of laughter from his cheek and fondly realises that soon he will be able to see Dream do that in real life. He bet it would look even funnier than it sounded – his head flying back to let out cackles and tears welling in his eyes and desperate hands slapping at his keyboard, clutching at his stomach to cope with the laughter, ending up doubled over and slumped in his chair, pushed back from the desk; cheeks flushed. 

The flutters reappear from George’s stomach as his mind wanders. The butterflies have doubled now; ripples of longing, tender emotion and feelings for Dream now accompanied by the sheer excitement and nervousness of his imminent trip to visit, to meet him and Sapnap, to board a plane and travel into the warmth. 

Checking the time as a forced distraction, George realises he needs to log off in order to fit in a comfortable sleep before the frenzy that would be last-minute checks and heading to the airport later that day. He says his goodbyes to his friends, for one of the last times before he would see them in real life, and swamps himself in soft, cosy blankets and dreams that welcome him with outreached arms. 

His last conscious thought before entering the golden Floridian light in his mind is that he couldn’t help but notice the tiniest trace of disappointment in Dream’s voice when George had said goodnight, logging off much earlier than he normally would. 

He isn’t sure, but that disappointment is tantalising. It sows a seed in his heart, and another deep within his mind, residing among other plants that have since bloomed, watered by previous teasing conversations, dangerous dreams and unprovoked thoughts. 

The seed represents a single possibility, one that threatens to implode George if it were to really occur, one in which the splash of blonde hair across the pillows from his vivid imagination was truly lying next to him, the golden feelings mutual, encompassing; everything. 

George drifts to sleep barely noticing the presence of the seed, ready to burst into flower at a moment’s notice; waiting for the right words to be uttered, or shared touches, or secret confessions under a Floridian sky, to finally emerge into bloom.


	6. Turbulence

George sighs into recirculated air, allowing the shaky breath to steel himself. The plane shudders in the night, mimicking his internal unsteadiness. The turbulence causes the mirror surface of his Coke to ripple, so many circles coasting within the confines of the glass. George sighs again, sleepily this time, and reaches for the blind covering his porthole-like window to peek outside. 

Darkness. 

A hint of orange in the horizon, a distant promise of comfort and warmth. 

The plane is shrouded by cloud, and George is unable to see the stars. He longs for their speckled brightness, their ethereal presence; to embrace him with less constricting emotions. Often up well into the early hours of the English morning, George is familiar with such celestial bodies, and finds himself drawn to them; not only through the necessity of being awake when the rest of his household dozes, but because of their mystery and shine.

And because he knows that somewhere, across the ocean, Dream sees those very same glimmering lights when darkness descends upon the warm Floridian streets. And this knowledge fills him with an indescribable emotion, that falls into the pit of his stomach and makes his heart beat double, lips parting every time his eyes lift skyward. 

George sips from his glass and tries futilely to still his nerves. 

He slips his phone out of his jeans pocket, opening his messages to re-read his most recent conversations in the group chat; and then with just Dream. 

‘I was gonna practice speed-running later on the server, do u want to join so I can dazzle u with my skills?’ Dream had written, to which George was tempted to reply that he was already thoroughly dazzled and needed no further display of such brilliance. 

Instead, he responds ‘Can’t sorry. Going to the hospital to visit my aunt. Might not be on my phone for a while :/’. This was the hastily crafted story George and Sapnap had produced, realising they needed a cover for why George would suddenly be absent from their usual nightly call. George was sceptical and didn’t like lying to his best friend, but a more plausible excuse hadn’t come to mind, and he felt hurried to answer Dream’s message. 

‘Kay, hope everything is alright. Hop on the server when u can’ Dream had responded, seeming to believe George’s practiced nonchalance. Little did he know George wouldn’t be on the server for quite some time; and when he was, the boys would be in unfamiliar proximity. George had sent a simple smiley face in response, and it was this, alongside the ‘read’ symbol below the message, that he continues to look at long after the characters become meaningless to his baleful eyes and he retreats into his racing mind.

George leans back against his headrest, stretching his legs to gain some semblance of comfort that can never really be gained on a flight. He stares at the dimly lit ceiling above, searching for answers to the questions that swim behind his eyes, their frenzy increasing as the number of remaining miles to close the gap between George and Florida plummet rapidly. 

His fingers drum in a rapid, meaningless rhythm against his armrest, mimicking the beat of his stupid heart. Snippets of old conversations intertwine with snapshots from his imagination and dreams, a slideshow of humid air and golden skies and flashes of green, the colour of Dream’s avatar skin and his soft jumper. Touching hands, suppressed giggles, a cosy room awash with computer glow; all the more intimate. 

Purple clouds and night-time conversations, in real life, no electric buzz humming behind their voices. Beautiful grins and shared jokes and unfinished pizzas, sprawled across the room at 2am. 

A premonition? 

More likely a vision of unrequited love, something awfully just out of reach.

The plane jolts through a rough patch of sky and George gasps out loud, thrust from his secret thoughts without warning. A familiar pang surges through his heart, and he readjusts his position on his seat, leaning forwards to rub groggy eyes, desperate to escape his thoughts and simultaneously return to his dreams to engage in unrealistic scenarios in peace; guilt-free. 

George glances out his window once more, where the previous suggestion of sunrise has transformed into a hazy splash of deep orange across the sky, melting into black. It promises an onset of warm, but seems terrifyingly unknown at the same time. 

Still no stars. 

George rests his head against the plane wall, view cast into the vast sky just beyond. 

-

He doesn’t realise he’s asleep until he awakens some hours later, with a jerk shared by the plane as it makes a slight turn. 

A dreamless sleep. 

His first one in weeks. 

George blinks rapidly, forcing himself to regain some wits despite the uncanny hour. The still-dim light emitted by the plane does nothing to prompt his return to reality. 

The scene depicted by George’s window now displays a rapidly approaching hulk of land ahead. George’s stomach leaps into his mouth and butterflies emerge into his heart. His pulse quickens. 

So soon.

The flight was supposed to force his emotions to still, the journey inevitable with a certain ending – meeting Dream. And yet, his body has never felt more energised, tense with predictions and overwhelmed by barely coherent thoughts zipping through his bloodstream. 

What if Dream doesn’t want to meet me? 

What if he doesn’t like me in person? 

What if he doesn’t want to see me? 

What if my feelings for him are real?

Not real in the way they felt now, like some all-consuming high school crush that fades away with summer’s end. Right now, with no confirmation, no physical reaction; it felt unreal. Fake. As though George could take a step back, shake his head and say ‘that was weird!’ and move on from the whole affair. 

A fever dream. 

So the thought of that being solidified, confirmed, cemented; upon meeting Dream, was terrifying. 

Electrifying. 

Imperceivable and overwhelming and frustrating. 

Part of George just wants the whole trip to play out like one of his beautiful imaginings while asleep. Where everything is perfect and reciprocated and warm. A conglomeration of his golden dream and the unspoken confessions from his enlightening trip to the Minecraft cave. Something simple and just right, like it always has been, but also, different. 

Something that sets him on fire the way the chorus of Vampire Weekend’s ‘Harmony Hall’ sounds. A feeling of absolute lightness and content. 

But another part of George can’t begin to know how to cope with that reality, if it were to happen, and wants his feelings to be proven wrong. For the whole thing to play out like one prolonged boys’ weekend away, just hanging out with his best mates in real life for the first time. Their usual antics of talking shit and staying up late, streaming and eating and listening to music. A quick sight-see of Florida, where George’s translucent skin would blind the locals in the blazing sun. 

He feels practically torn in half by the confliction. As though one more turbulent patch during the plane ride could force him into two separate halves, both equally possible and hoping for their outcome to be true.

The plane begins a steep and sudden descent, and the colour drains from George’s face in synchrony. 

He had arrived in Florida.


	7. Into Fire

“I told you I was taller,” 

George rolls his eyes and grins effortlessly at Sapnap, standing before him with a huge smile. He had met George in the airport terminal, the pair drawn to each other like orbiting planets, experiencing the happiest of meetings amidst a buzzing crowd of strangers; each playing out their own unique journeys and reunions and emotions. As is so common with airports, it was a devastatingly busy maze that threatened to lose George in its gaping belly, wandering stray like the usual abandoned suitcase. He was tired but simultaneously brilliantly awake, drinking in his new surroundings with glory – thought it would have been preferable if his flight hadn’t landed at 7.25am local time. Sapnap had texted instructions regarding where to meet him prior to George’s flight, and he had his eyes glued to the luminescent screen as he navigated the commotion, dragging a suitcase with a squeaky wheel and lugging a backpack on his shoulders. Had he been less energised by whizzing emotions and the general excitement of departing a plane and arriving in a new country; George would have allowed the rising concern that he would never find Sapnap to swallow him whole. 

But he dutifully kept trodding forward, occasionally glancing up to check flashing overhead signs for directions and instructions.

And then he rounded a corner and arrived in the terminal; and there was Sapnap, leaning against a concrete pillar on the far side of the room, looking awfully cool and collected for someone who had woken up at 6am to get to the airport in time to pick up his friend. 

Then George was grinning like mad and Sapnap was laughing and the pair fast-walked to meet each other, almost comedically; and then they were embracing and basking in shared warmth offered by years of friendship culminating in this very moment, this very meeting. 

It was all a bit overwhelming. 

Sapnap offers to lug George’s suitcase and the pair set off towards the airport carpark, conversation flowing happily. As they descend along a ridiculously long escalator, Sapnap appraises George’s choice of clothes with an eyebrow raised.

“Jeans and a t-shirt, huh?” George looks down at himself self-consciously, smoothing a wrinkle out of the white cotton against his stomach.

“What about it? You look no fancier yourself,” he offers back, gesturing towards his friend’s cargo shorts and zip-up jacket, accompanied by sneakers that seemed strangely out of proportion for the rest of his body. “Jesus, what size shoe are you?” George asks.

Sapnap laughs. “US 12.” When George purposefully reacts with an exaggerated face of shock, he concedes, “I know, I know. My feet are really big for my height.” George raises his eyebrows in agreeance.

“Still taller than you, though.” Sapnap winks. 

George punches his shoulder jokingly, still reeling from the fact that he was physically able to do that, and that the pair could actually see what the other looked like when they reacted certain ways or said specific things. George would actually have to put effort into his facial expressions and physicality when talking to his friends, rather than quickly typing out a snappy retort or yelling too close to his microphone. 

“Dude, it’s one inch. How much does that really matter anyway?” George says, before realising what he’d said – Sapnap smirks and opens his mouth to respond, but George clamps a hand across his face and shushes him, forcing the pair to descend into laughter. When it ceases, Sapnap sighs and looks over to him with a soft smile. 

“I’m really glad you’re here, George.” 

George returns the smile, coveting the blossoming warmth that radiates from his heart at Sapnap’s words. “I am too.” 

-

Sapnap palms the wheel and pulls neatly into a parking space – a manoeuvre George would definitely not be confident enough to pull off if he was the one driving a shiny blue Tesla. He’d gaped when he first saw it, realising that Sapnap was in fact putting his luggage in its boot and not just walking George alongside it so he could admire. 

“This is your ride?” 

It definitely felt cool to pull up in one, and even cooler when his passenger door opened vertically and he slid out of the car feeling like a movie star, even though it was 8am and the café parking lot was largely empty. 

The boys had agreed on breakfast, imminently, even though George’s body clock was telling him it was more of a midnight snack hour back home. He sighs – the jetlag was definitely gonna be a bitch. 

Sapnap had brought them to a little coffee shop he apparently visited regularly and showered in praise. Given that George had minimal exposure to American culture and even less knowledge regarding small food franchises in Orlando, he’d been happy to be driven anywhere. 

Content after ordering a ham and cheese toastie and an iced latte, George settles into his red booth seat and grins at Sapnap opposite him, who looks confused. 

“Sorry, it’s just…” George trails off, looking for the right words and trying not to be overly sappy on their first day. “It’s hard to believe that this is real, and that you’re real. It feels like I’m dreaming.” Sapnap looks warmed by his words but looks down sheepishly, humbled. 

“Yeah, I get that. I think it might take a few days to feel really real, you know?” George nods vigorously. 

“I thought the flight might solidify it, but if anything it just made it feel more surreal. Maybe cos I flew through the night,” George trails off, pondering; rethinking his frenzied thoughts on the plane and tensing at the reality of his situation. 

“So,” he begins cautiously, evening the tone in his voice. “When are we gonna meet Dream?” 

“I thought you’d never ask!” Sapnap laughs, and checks his phone. “I told him I was gonna visit for a couple days, which he seemed really keen on, and he just said to arrive whenever.” 

George rolls his eyes, grinning. Did Dream have no consideration for people who lived by strict deadlines? 

“So I guess we can head straight there after this,” Sapnap continues; and George chokes on a sip of his coffee. Sapnap looks up quizzically, as George splutters and turns red self-consciously.

“Sorry,” he wipes his face with a napkin. “I’m just really excited. And nervous,” He allows the admission to be verbalised, his feeling of trust in Sapnap growing with every minute spent together in person. He was not going to bring up his other feelings and concerns, obviously, but felt safe in allowing a healthy amount of honesty to be shed. 

“That’s understandable,” Sapnap says earnestly, reaching over to put a comforting hand on George’s wrist. “You guys haven’t met in real life before, and he’s like, your best friend. It’s bound to be a lot, especially since you live so far away.” 

“How come it’s always that I live really far away, and not that you guys do?” George asks, to humour the mood slightly. 

“Cos we out-number you. There’s two of us over here and just one of you over there in England, George.” George gives him a withering look.

“You know that you’re both my best friends, right?” George says, wanting to clarify Sapnap’s words from earlier. He realises that with a trio of friends, it can be easy to feel left out; and hopes that Sapnap knows his worth in their group dynamic. 

“Course,” Sapnap says, though his eyes light up, pleased at the confirmation. “I just know that sometimes you and Dream can be closer or talk more often,” He carries on, perfectly innocently, but the words strike at the seeds of feeling in George’s heart and send a flutter wandering through his bloodstream. His stomach flips, and he puts the remaining quarter of his breakfast toastie back on the plate remorsefully, no longer with an appetite. Sapnap notices nothing unusual in this behaviour, so George just responds, 

“I know. But you two can be like that too. I guess that’s just how it is sometimes.” Sapnap nods, and the pair enter a comfortable silence, finishing their coffees. 

-

“How is it this sunny when it’s only 9 in the morning?!” George asks incredulously, casting a hand over his eyes to gesture to the bright blue sky beyond the car windshield in disgust. “And it’s already warm!” He scrunches his noise.

Sapnap laughs, indicating to the right and changing lanes. “I think you might actually melt while you’re over here,” he smirks and glances to George, who frowns and looks out the passenger window at the landscape passing by. So many suburban houses, some brick, some covered in cream-coloured slats. Concrete driveways and green grass and scraggly bushes and palm trees – so many palm trees. George liked them, the way they thrashed in the wind and added to the general sense of summer he considered to be practically constant here. The sky was cloudless and so blue, even through the tinted windows – he rarely saw this much open, bright sky back home; and now he was going to be living under it for a time. 

So different.

And yet, part of him already felt somewhat at home here, zipping along Floridian highways under the blazing sun with one of his best friends. He felt comfortable. He felt at ease. 

He felt hot. 

George tugs at his t-shirt aimlessly, trying to stop it from sticking to his frame. Sapnap turns the aircon onto its coolest setting, blasting icy currents in George’s face, much to his relief. How was he going to cope in this heat when he was already struggling early in the morning in a car? 

He felt like…he’d stepped into fire.

He inhales sharply, but quietly, and Sapnap doesn’t notice, continuing to gaze forward at the road. George thinks back to when he first booked the trip, a decision borne of late night thoughts that wouldn’t desert him and teasing conversations that made his heart tender. He thinks of the warmth that erupts within him because of his best friends, and he looks up at the gleaming sun overhead, leaning his temple against the window to stare at its stubborn, unwavering glow. 

Golden radiating warmth, like that which came from within his mind whenever his thoughts turned to Dream. 

And now, he was going to be surrounded by it, in all it’s furious, glorious heat, with no escape. 

George lets out a long breath, steeling himself for a future shaping up to be undeniably hot. In how many ways, he was not yet sure. 

“We’re here,” Sapnap says softly, perhaps thinking George was dozing. The car shuts off, parked in a pebbled concrete driveway that angled up to a cream-slat house with red tiles along the roof, much alike those George had observed along the route. Several of the palm trees so beloved by George sway gently against the front corner of the house, allowing dappled sunlight to filter through to the front porch, where a large wooden door signifies the entry. A small front yard containing cut grass and mulch, several small plants with stepping stones leading between them; and a weathered white mailbox with the number ‘83’ displayed by gold figures. Sapnap’s car is parked in front of a rolling garage door, currently shut. 

George takes in his surroundings in an instant, nerves temporarily subsiding as he appreciates how homey the residence looks. He feels that it makes sense – that it’s very Dream. 

His heart rate slows. 

Sapnap pulls George’s luggage out of his car, locking it, and turns to face George. 

“Shall we?” He asks, grinning mischievously. 

George shoulders his backpack once more, gripping the handle of his suitcase and forcing himself to breath. The palm trees rattle their leaves as though in encouragement as the pair approach the front door, and a strange calm consumes George as he accepts the certainty of this life-changing moment and prepares to meet his best friend. 

Whatever happens, whatever he feels, he is here, now; meeting Dream and spending time with his best friends. If he had nothing else, that certainty was warm, and familiar, and made him feel safe. 

Sapnap rings the doorbell and a sweet chime rings out, adding to George’s sense of being at home. Sun rays beat down on his exposed, pale neck, and he allows his suitcase to stand so he can rest a hand against his warm skin, sheltering it. 

Faint footsteps approach, their pace matching George’s heartbeat. 

He looks to Sapnap and grins nervously. 

The door opens quickly, creaking. Dream stands with one hand holding its frame, the other outstretched towards Sapnap, who is positioned slightly in front of George, and who catches Dream’s gaze first. 

He’s tall. So tall. And lean, accentuated by the dark blue t-shirt covering his torso perfectly. He’s wearing black jeans, and converse, and a huge smile across his face that lights up the entire world as far as George is concerned. Wavy golden hair that looks slightly ruffled, as though recently disturbed by having to leap up suddenly to answer the door, frames his face like a halo, adding to his already-golden aura. 

Dream’s gaze catches that someone is behind Sapnap, and shifts to lock eyes with George. His eyes – so green, and enthralling – capture George for a moment, and George feels his stomach drop, releasing the butterflies within his abdomen to have free roam over his entire body. 

George feels like he’s floating, for the infinitesimal passing of time that he and Dream stare at each other, both unmoving, eyes wide, mouths open with shock, eyebrows raised slightly. 

Raw emotion. 

George feels his heart explode into a flurry of beats within his chest, feels the way the flutters permeate his soul, the way his mind has stopped racing to focus on Dream and only Dream in this exact moment. He feels the sun beating down on his hand against his neck and knows only Dream, and the heat, and realises he knows exactly how he feels, and its enough to knock all of the breath out of him at once. 

This moment – the tiniest passing of time, really – is everything to George, and he is barely starting to put himself together, when Dream speaks. 

“George?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading - I would really appreciate some comments/feedback to know your thoughts so far and what you are liking! :)


	8. Warmth

“George!”

The pure, unadulterated glee present in Dream’s voice as it cried his best friend’s name was enough to send George’s already racing heart frenzied. His eyes race to take in every single detail of this moment to remember forever; the way the golden morning light permeates the palm trees to splay beautifully dappled light across Dream’s cheeks perfectly, highlighting small freckles and his blazingly white teeth, spread into a beaming smile. The surprise captured in those brilliant green eyes was tangible and breathtaking for George to see, and he drank it in greedily. This type of emotion couldn’t be pretend or over-exaggerated – it was real, and consuming. 

George wasn’t aware that he was still standing motionless on the porch, mouth agape and hands limply holding his luggage by his side, until Dream swoops in and embraces him in a nearly-crushing hug, strong arms wrapped entirely around his slender torso so that his own arms were pinned mercilessly to his sides.

He starts to laugh. 

Out of shock, probably, and a by-product of the countless different emotions and thoughts whizzing through his system. It starts as a giggle and then progresses into racking laughs that send his head back and cause a huge grin to appear on his face. Dream retreats from the hug and looks at him quizzically, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly in a motion that makes George’s heart melt in the background. 

“You’re real,” George explains simply, and grins earnestly. 

“I am,” Dream replies back just as easily, hands opening in a gesture by his sides as though to say, ‘well, this is me!’. They hold eye contact for a fraction longer than the moment requires and something behind Dream’s eyes falter as he perhaps notices the intensity of George’s gaze. 

Sapnap coughs.

The pair jump in sync and turn to look at him.

“You know I’m here too, right?” He complains in a whiny tone, pouting slightly and then shouldering past Dream into his house, holding his duffel bag over his back. 

George shares a smirk with Dream, who steps back from the door and raises his left arm gesturing for George to enter his house, where Sapnap has disappeared down a long hallway. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Dream jokes lightly, voice filled with mirth and simultaneous unexpected softness. 

George steps over the threshold and brushes past Dream, the proximity sending hot shivers along his spine and driving the flutters in his stomach crazy. 

The front door shuts with a click behind them. 

He was really here. With Dream. In Dream’s house. 

George thought he might faint. 

-

“Sapnap, do you wanna try fitting more food in your mouth before you speak?” Dream drawls, raising an eyebrow at his friend, who had asked an incoherent question thanks to his mid-chewing a huge handful of Doritos. There is a drawn out pause as Sapnap chews dramatically, rolls his eyes, and then repeats what he said. 

“All I said was, what do you guys wanna do tonight?” 

George sits forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his clasped hands. He taps a foot nonchalantly to the beat of some song with a lot of bass playing in the background from the speakers in Dream’s lounge room. The trio were sprawled across daybeds and outdoor chairs on Dream’s back deck, overlooking a rectangular patch of grass and landscaping much like that present in his front garden; all fenced in with wooden slats painted dark green. He looks up as Dream stands suddenly, moving to lie outstretched on a hammock reaching between two of the deck pillars. He lays with his legs crossed and his arms folded behind his head, looking the picture of comfort. 

Beautiful, George thinks to himself, staring a fraction longer before forcing himself to look at Sapnap and answer his question so as not to draw unwanted attention to himself or the pining glances he sent Dream’s way when no one was looking. 

“Takeout and Minecraft?” He suggests, the boys’ faces lighting up at the idea. 

“Brilliant!” Dream says, with a smile to match, and the three settle into a comfortable silence, admiring the gentle breeze interrupting the comfortable warmth of the Floridan afternoon. Minutes pass, bringing sweet bird calls and the rustling of palm leaves, much to George’s delight. Dream and Sapnap strike up a conversation debating which takeout would be best for George to try on his first night in America, and specifically in Florida, and George stands up, taking the opportunity to grab some time alone to collect his thoughts - since his heart had used the lull of the afternoon to slow its beat to what could be considered a normal and healthy range. 

He heads towards the guest bedroom Dream showed him into earlier, deciding to unpack his luggage and get his laptop set up for their antics later in the night. But after unzipping his suitcase, he finds himself unmotivated, still too energized from the whole situation. 

He sits on the edge of his bed and stares out the open door, realising his room his opposite Dream’s bedroom, where the door is mostly shut but slightly ajar. He allows a pandering glance into the sliver of bedroom visible beyond, where dark carpet and the edge of a bookcase are barely visible. 

So curious. So desperate to walk in and see, to wander around the room where the person for whom his heart pines spends most of his time. To run a finger lightly across the spines of the piles of books undoubtedly stacked haphazardly, to see his desk and gaming setup; a neatly made bed with a cover just crumpled enough to give the air of aloofness and mess, two pillows side by side where the pair could rest easily next to each other; staring into each other’s eyes for an indefinite span of time. 

George grips the edge of the bed tightly, in desperation, forcing himself to remain seated and not go prying around the privacy of his best friend’s room. 

Another time, he thinks, contemplatively. He sighs, staring down at his shoes, and relaxes his clenched grip on the bedsheets. 

“You okay?” 

George whips his head up to see Dream lounged against the doorframe, almost as tall as it. His hands are shoved into his jeans pockets, and he is wearing an expression of mild concern. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry if I worried you,” George answers. “I just…can’t believe this is real. That you’re real. And that I’m here,” he trails off, shoulders hunching as he looks into his hands. 

The bed creaks and lowers with the weight of Dream sitting next to him, a hand against George’s shoulder in reassurance. George meets his gaze. 

“I get it. It’s a bit overwhelming for me, too. It’s just an adjustment period, that’s all.” Dream provides comfortingly, a small smile playing on his lips. George sighs. Dream is right. He just needs to stop being caught up in his head and forget his emotions and thoughts and feelings; and have a good time. That’s what he was here for after all, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

Dream looks away briefly to appraise George’s luggage, and in that intermittent second, George glances at his friend in an attempt to be objective. But the angle of his jaw and the fluff of his hair against his neck brought tingles to George’s fingers, longing to touch; and be touched; and the flutters returned. 

Nope. 

Having a fun holiday with his friends definitely wasn’t the only reason George had come to Florida. 

And now that his forbidden feelings had been proven true, he had to tread cautiously along the line of friendship with Dream, keeping his feelings guarded and never letting them get too strong a hold of him, for fear of what he would do or say if he ended up in a close space, alone with Dream, late at night or in the early morning, when such forbidden things can be shared. 

Dream looks back over to George, who inhales sharply, forces a smirk onto his face; and shoves his wandering desires into the back corner of his mind. Clapping his hands on his knees and standing up, he says,

“Minecraft time?” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dream laughs, jumping up. The pair head out to where Sapnap is sprawled across a leather couch in the lounge room, flicking through sport channels on the large television. 

“You’re still going with those Doritos?” Dream asks incredulously, shaking his head. Sapnap grins, licking crumbs off his fingers. 

Gentle golden light streams through the broad windows that comprise the wall between the lounge room and the back deck. George’s first Floridian afternoon; and so far he’d only allowed himself to be swamped by feelings once. He considered that a win. 

Now he just had to keep his mind away from those thoughts for the next long stretch of time.

While he lived with Dream, and slept across the hall from him each night.

George sighs. It was gonna be a painstaking holiday for his poor, racing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for an unusually long time between updates - my laptop needed to visit the computer repair shop lol and I only got it back today. Please let me know if you like this chapter and what you like in it, and if you have any suggestions feel free to comment them! :))


	9. Midnight

11.58pm local time. 

George feels simultaneously so awake and so tired that he thought his brain might tear in half trying to comprehend whether to stay up or fall asleep for 16-odd hours. He was used to being up at all hours, of course, but not while adjusting to a new time zone and being jetlagged. 

He yawns. 

Now-empty cartons of Thai food lay strewn along the kitchen bench, muffled scents of pad see ew and egg noodles still present in the warm air. Aside from their computers, the light from the kitchen rangehood provides a comforting and ambient orange glow, signifying the late hour in contrast to the moon beams streaming through the sliding glass doors, slightly ajar to let in a gentle breeze and overlapping the smells of food with unfamiliar Floridian scents. 

Warm, beachy, tropical scents. 

So foreign to George’s usual environment; and yet, already so embracing and homely. 

The palm trees rustle, whispering secrets that intrigue George and make him smile gently. 

Sapnap’s shriek cuts through the night, interrupting George taking in his surroundings. 

“What the fuck!” 

The sound of hands falling angrily onto a keyboard emit as George turns back around to face his friends and pay attention to the game. Naturally, they were playing Minecraft, and Sapnap had just lost a fight to Dream, who was laughing victoriously from the comfort of his lounge chair. 

George joins in laughing. 

Sapnap pouts, makes a comment about the two of them ganging up on him unfairly; and then respawns to collect his stuff. In the meantime, George and Dream continue attempting to advance to the stronghold; now making it a challenge to beat the game before Sapnap catches up with them, much to his distaste. 

“Why’s it always me that gets left out, huh? You guys don’t want me here, is that it?” 

“Of course not, Sapnap, we love you,” George says grinning, furiously clicking his spacebar to gain speed. 

“Yeah, we loOove you Sapnap,” Dream chimes in, pitching his voice jokingly and then breaking off in a giggle. “We just want to beat the game before you, that’s all. Doesn’t mean we don’t like you,” he smirks, and Sapnap throws a pillow at him. 

“Hey!” 

“Yeah those precious seconds while you’re AFK are alllll to my advantage, Dream.” 

George, barely processing what is happening in real life around him, is busy trawling the flower forest on his screen to find a cornflower. He wants to make another leather hat, his last one having just broke after a perfect hit from a skeleton. He is also trying not to die to mobs on his endeavour, however. 

“Dream! Save me!” He cries, suddenly taking 4 hearts of damage to a nearby creeper explosion and running out of food fast. Dream’s avatar appears on the corner of his laptop, furiously shooting arrows in all directions and taking out the most imminent threats. George sprints until he runs out of hunger, and then eats a cooked porkchop. 

“Thanks,” he says, glancing over to his friend a giving a smile. Still so disorientating that he could do that. He always wanted to, all those times they played together and helped each other beat challenges. He was always smiling to himself, alone in his room, and despite saying it out loud, into the voice call; or typing something in-game, it just wasn’t quite right. But now, being able to say it and show it, and see thanks or jokes reciprocated – was perfect. 

“Anytime,” Dream offers a lopsided grin, and they look at each other like that for a heartbeat longer. 

Then George gets shot by another skeleton, and the moment passes; and Sapnap, still oblivious to any interactions happening around him, gives off a war cry and charges into the scene, killing mobs and defending George. 

“Hey guys!” he says.

“Look who caught up,” Dream drawls. “Guess we didn’t beat our challenge George,” he sighs, jokingly. 

“Yeah, but he did save my life. Thanks Sapnap,” George sends a heart emoji into the chat. Sapnap turns to face him in real life, offering kissy noises and slowly advancing. George rolls his eyes, beating Sapnap away with a large, square pillow; giggling. 

Sapnap turns away, pretending to be offended by George’s rejection. George feels eyes on him, the heat of a gentle stare rather than an intense gaze, and shifts his vision slightly. 

Dream is looking at him. 

George turns to make eye contact with him and Dream simply offers a smile. Friendly, gentle.

Warm.

George smiles back and half-raises an eyebrow to question why Dream was looking at him, wondering if anything was wrong; and Dream’s lip part as though about to respond but before he can speak-

“Suck it, bitch!” 

That was Sapnap, killing an iron golem. 

As he spoke, Dream’s gaze shifted toward him, away from George, and so George looks away too. Back to his laptop, where the block world was in daylight and the endermen they needed were nowhere to be seen. George enters a cave, frowning slightly into the darkened view, and concentrating so as not to have another near-death experience with mobs. As he clacks away on his keyboard and shifts his mouse slightly, he feels eyes on him again. 

Dream?

George glances up, barely, under the furrow of his brow and shielded by his hair gently flopping forward. 

No, Dream is paying attention to his own screen, fingers fast against the mouse as he towers past George’s avatar. 

George hums to himself, confused but unbothered, and returns to the game. 

Sapnap fiddles with his phone, setting his Spotify to shuffle and allowing the music to be a moderate volume, enough to add to the mood but not so loud that one of them would miss the sound of an oncoming threat in-game. 

“The Spotify Twitter subs are gonna love this,” Sapnap comments; and barely a minute passes before his phone buzzes. “Yep, there it is.” He grins. “You know you’re famous when there’s fifty thousand people avidly following what music you listen to.” 

George just smirks and retrieves his phone from his jeans pocket, opening his own Twitter app. He scans along account names until he finds the right one, and retweets the most recent song announcement. Within moments, George’s phone is vibrating like crazy against the couch, an influx of likes, comments and retweets. 

“What the hell, George?” Sapnap says, typing out a tweet in response that simply read ‘no one asked’. 

“Get ratio’d,” George says, giggling; and the sound of a borderline-wheezing laugh prompts George to face Dream, eager to see the famous laugh in person since it hadn’t happened yet.   
As though sensing George’s thoughts, Dream merely winks at him, and settles back into the game. 

A wink. 

So smooth, so easy, a split-second movement with no further meaning behind it.

And yet George’s heart pitches, skipping beats and then running at double-time. He forces himself to turn back to his computer, to urge his mind to move elsewhere instead of replaying the moment like a favourite scene of a movie that you can’t help but rewatch.

Stupid, stupid brain, George thinks to himself. Stupid heart. Stupid feelings. 

But the warmth that blossomed within whenever his mind turned to Dream; or when he heard him speak, or now; when he saw him right there, on the opposite corner of the couch, staying in Dream’s own house – that warmth said otherwise; it contradicted those suppressive thoughts. 

The palm trees whisper again, spying through the moonlit glass at the scenarios unfolding; at the pining sent by one boy to another, missed completely. Those palm leaves seem to hear George’s sporadic heartbeat and know his thoughts, for they were sharing their own secrets in the way they rattled against the roofing and sighed into the night. 

Were they as impatient as George’s heart? Was their fluttering of leaves mimicking the butterflies that still encased George’s abdomen? Or were they merely spectators to the unfolding time spent together, already a myriad of moments, feelings; shared movement and conversations on the first day. 

The first day – he’d only arrived in Florida this morning, or technically yesterday, now that the clock on the microwave display read past midnight in neon blue. 

How was it possible for so many things, seemingly enormous but simultaneously trivial things, to unfold in the space of less than 24 hours? 

Maybe it was the Floridian air. It was doing something to George’s already inflamed senses. 

George sighs, reflecting on all of his thoughts, all of the events of the past day, from his arrival at the airport to where was sitting currently, shutting his laptop; the boys having beat the game at last.

He looks to his friends, stretching their cramped arms and yawning, slowly collecting themselves and their stuff to head to bed. He was filled with that warmth yet again, reminiscent of the Floridian sunlight that beat down upon them earlier, and it was blissful. 

He hated to admit it, but his swirling thoughts and feelings, added to the way his heartbeat could never seem to find a steady pace; well – it just made him warm. 

And he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm looking forward to continuing this story, I kind of know where I want to take the next few chapters now! Please let me know if you like this chapter, as well as any other comments you want to make - and thanks for reading! :)


	10. Morning

George wanders sleepily down the hallway and into the open space comprising the living room and kitchen. Comfortable mid-morning light streams through the glass doors and beyond them George can see birds hopping on the back deck, pecking at stalks of grass leaning over the edge of the wooden planks. 

He rubs his hands into his eyes, ruffling his messy hair and shifting it slightly from in front of his eyes. Before him, Dream is stood behind the marble kitchen bench, eating a slice of heavily buttered toast and scrolling lazily on his phone. At the padding of George’s approaching footsteps, he looks up and grins immediately. 

Oh boy. 

That beaming smile was breathtaking. George felt his breath actually hitch at the sight, and forced himself to smile back and stop being weird. 

‘Good morning,’ he says, smiling happily. 

‘Hi,’ Dream replies, almost shyly, in comparison to his broad grin. It was utterly endearing. ‘How’d you sleep?’ He leans forward against the counter, taking another bite of toast and crunching. 

‘Like a log. I don’t remember the last time I slept and woke up in the same position like that,’ George says honestly, arching his back to stretch some tender muscles and rub a knot in his neck that had appeared after his tension leading up to his arrival in Florida. Dream snorts at George’s use of the word ‘log’ and then smiles softly at the rest of what he has to say. 

‘I’m glad you slept well,’ he murmurs, so softly George isn’t sure that he actually spoke or whether it was intended for him to hear. He doesn’t move, and says nothing. A beat of time passes, and then Dream asks,

‘Want a coffee?’ 

George exhales lightly and nods, seating himself on a low-backed stool perched behind the bench, facing the kitchen. It spins, so he swings lightly while he waits, rocking his feet back and forth absentmindedly. The kettle boils, and the sound of the water being poured into a mug is soothing. Dream walks back over and slides the mug across the counter carefully. 

‘Sugar?’ 

George nods again, twirling the mug in place. Dream places a glass canister of sugar in front of him and retrieves a teaspoon from a drawer, which shuts slowly with a gentle click. 

He hands George the spoon.

Their fingers touch, intimate on the small surface offered by the item of cutlery. 

George, pale and cold slender fingers; Dream, tan and skin seemingly ablaze, warm to the touch and radiating heat. 

They make eye contact simultaneously, still touching the spoon; frozen, attached. From the way George is seated he has to look up, eyebrows raising involuntarily to meet Dream’s gaze, steadily staring down at him from his perch standing behind the bench. George opens his mouth – in surprise? To speak? – and suddenly the spoon clatters against the marble and the sugar canister is pushed aside and Dream is leaning across the bench to grip the left side of George’s face with his right hand, warm fingers splayed and firm against George’s blushing cheek, curled hair tangled in his grip.

And suddenly Dream’s face is millimetres away from George’s, eyes locked intensely, so close that George could see specks of dark green and brown within Dream’s irises that he fixated on momentarily, the complexity warming his heart enough to distract him briefly from his current position. 

And then their lips met, and George’s thoughts were too fast for him to keep up; and he could feel every atom inside his body explode with emotion and confusion and excitement; and the heat that flowed through his veins felt like pure stardust and he thought he could walk on air. 

And then George was kissing him back, bravely snaking his fingers into the blonde tangle of Dream’s hair and holding him tightly, closely, wanting to never let go. George felt Dream lightly brush the back of his neck while rearranging his hold, and goosebumps erupted along his skin, tingling, electric. 

And then all of a sudden, the pair were sprung apart, forced to stop by their ignorance and forgetfulness of the other person in their house, innocently walking into the kitchen to fetch some cereal and instead stumbling into a forbidden scene; who at the sight drops his phone and screams;

‘What the FUCK?!’

-

George sits bolt upright in his bed.

His hands lace around his neck and he rocks back gently, leaning against the headboard and staring at the ceiling. Eyes wide. 

In shock.

That was a dream? 

It had felt so real. So perfect. Like everything he wanted plus everything he didn’t know he wanted. 

What he knew that deep down he wished would happen during his stay in Florida. 

He exhales. 

Tries to force his mind away from whatever it was he’d just been immersed in for what felt like hours, but was most likely the last few minutes of his sleep. 

Fails; and finds himself wandering longingly back. 

God, the feel of their lips together. The grip of Dream’s hand on his face, his hair, his neck. The colour of his eyes. The all-consuming warmth. 

George felt his teeth grinding together and consciously unlocked his jaw, rubbing his face in his hands. He slides back down under the sheets and lays flat on his back, staring at the ceiling until enough time passes that he thinks it’s acceptable to get up. 

-

He steps into the hallway, having made his bed, smoothing the sheets down until every last crinkle disappeared in order to force his mind to settle and his stomach to stop churning. It was still only 7.03am, and given his jetlag and general exhaustion from his rollercoaster of emotions, he would have much preferred to still be sleeping. His socks mask any sound as his feet pad gently along the wooden floor. 

Dream’s door is ajar again opposite him, and he chances a look in, sneaking over to the frame. Dream was still asleep, breathing heavily into his pillow and lying on his stomach, in a position that did not look comfortable at all. His hair was splayed across his right arm and the blanket was half over his body and half underneath it. George grins. What an idiot. 

As he’s stood there, Dream stirs and rolls over slowly, waking up with an admirable nonchalance. He rubs his eyes, shakes his head to get hair out of his face, and then George realises that Dream is gonna see him staring at him sleep, and that probably isn’t the best way to start the day. He ducks around the corner of the doorframe, and runs straight into Sapnap, who had emerged into the hallway holding a plate of steaming leftover Thai food and a mug of hot chocolate. A breakfast of kings. 

‘What is this, a party in Dream’s bedroom?’ he asks through a mouthful of egg noodles, grinning slyly. George rolls his eyes and can’t help but laugh, picking a piece of chicken out of Sapnap’s plate and eating it before he can complain. 

Sapnap shoulders past George into Dream’s room, loudly announcing, ‘good morning ugly’ at full volume so that Dream was now well and truly awake, and settles on the corner of Dream’s bed to eat his food. George stares in disbelief at his boldness and willingness; and realises that he too, could be like that, if he wasn’t so worked up on overthinking every word and action and how it could possibly affect his relationship with Dream. 

His thoughts drift to what he dreamt of earlier, his heart threatening to flutter and send his cheeks red, so instead he jumps onto the bed as well, which groans under the weight of the three boys.

‘Ugh,’ Dream says, voice still thick with sleep but grinning. 

Sapnap flings an egg noodle at George, who ducks to the right to avoid it, slamming into a just-sitting-up Dream by accident and knocking him back down again. They collapse into each other, laughing, a knot of limbs and crushed pyjamas and strands of hair pulled unintentionally. 

George’s stomach lowers, surging with emotions casually played off as the joking, boyish behaviour of three best friends. He laughs right along with the other two, helping Sapnap pin Dream under a pillow before the trio lounge easily against each other, checking their phones and speaking occasionally to share a meme. 

It was easy to get lost in the homeliness of it all; the way it felt like the most natural and right thing to be doing with his favourite people in the world. And yet the entire time George was sat there, pressed between Sapnap’s shoulder and Dream’s calf, all his mind could muster up was a screaming repetition of desire, saying ‘kiss me! kiss me! kiss me!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this update took a little longer than I would have liked - I'm going to try and post every 7-10 days - I still have quite a few chapters planned! As always, please let me know if you enjoyed this and what you like about it, or things you're hoping to see. I love seeing all your comments, it makes me so happy! :))


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